/ ; 



Authors' Proof Edition, 



AT TWELVE O'CLOCK: 



A ROMANCE OF GUANA DA 



A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY 



FRANK COWAN AND ROBERT MORROW, 

SECRETARIES OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE 



UNITED STATES. 



Entered according to act of Congress, in the. year 1869, by Frank Cowan 
and Robert Morrow, in the Clerk's Office o-f the Supreme Court of the United 
States for the District of Columbia. 



WASHINGTON, D. C. 

MDCCCLXIX. 



VJ 




Ccfy 1 



«*■*-*«£ a&riw / 







DRAMATIS PER SON jE. 

Altanero, a poor nobleman of Granada. 

Borracho. a rich nobleman of Granada, and friend 
to Altanero. 
■RoDRlGrO, son to Borracho. 

Leonardo, of Leon, an officer of the Spanish army, 
banished . 

Pedro, a servant to Borracho. 

Barnabas, a jailer. 

A Jailer, deputy to BarHabas. 

A Priest. 

A Lieutenant, to Leonard/). 

A Pirate. 

Mariana, wife to Altanero. 

Isabel, daughter to Altanero. 

Teresa, confidante and governess to Isabel. 

Attendants, &c. 

Plot laid in Granada, Spain. Time, 18 — . 



AT TWELVE CLOCK. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. — Street in a town on the tout/urn coast of 
Spain. Morning. Storm tlireateniny . 

Enter Leonardo. 

Leonardo. — The very elements, iu scowling storms, 
do join their hands with my stern sovereign's wrath 
to hunt me down! For seven weary days and nights 
the winds and waves have battled for my life — now 
raised my ship to dizzy heights, then hurled it down 
to depths of gloom, which vomited, in turn, the wooden 
shell, to which we clung for life. And now, when off 
the treacherous sea, I find the coast deserted — bare of 
human life, as if a plague had stalked, hand-clasped 
with storms, to drive from me the people of my native 
land ! — Spain, dear Spain, that blind fanaticism 
should wrest away my sword and chain my arms from 
longer service in thy cause ! 

Enter Bgdrigo. 

One moment, sir. Can you direct me to the man- 
sion of Don Altanero? 

Bodrigo. — Whose ? 

Leonardo. — That of Altanero of Granada. 

Bodrigo. — [Turning and faring Leonardo] What, 
Leonardo of Leon! Welcome, good friend! 

Leonardo. — Well met, Bodrigo, ancient, worthy, 
philosophic friend! 

Bodrigo — What war, affair of state, or royal mis- 
sion brings von to this distant coast? 



Leonardo. — Alas! no royal mission honors me. 

Bodrigo. — What bodes this tone of sadness? Your 
voice was wont to issue forth more buoyantly. 

Leonardo. — You have not heard — alas, that I, when 
weeks have passed, should herald my disgrace ! You 
do not know then that the zealots of the church have 
judged mine aged father an apostate, and sent him 
forth, with trembling limbs, to die in foreign lands,, 
and banished me from court and Spain'sbeloved realm, 
when I did fondly hope my honorable service in her 
cause had well begun. 

Bodrigo. — Exiled from Spain, Leonardo ! 

Leonardo. — Yes, banished ! The hour of twelve to- 
day defines my stay in Spain a freeman — chains and 
death the stern alternative, and I must see Don Al- 
ternero ere this quickly coming hour has passed. 

Bodrigo. — Then come with me. Don Altanero is 
my father's life-long friend ; they dine to-day together. 
Come, I am going there myself. 

Leonardo. — Thanks, thanks, Kodrigo — all an exile 
has to give for any service done him. 

Exeunt- 

SCENE II. — Parlor in Altanero's Mansion. Altane- 
ro discovered pacing to and fro. 

Altanero. — This day my daughter Isabel has reached 
her nineteenth year. What poor and paltry decora- 
tions for her festival! Yes, poor they are, and scarce 
the viands and mean the scant supply of wine that 
furnish forth the banquet — yet I can do no more. 
Curses on the fate that thus compels such faint re- 
joicings on her natal day! Ah, well do I remember 
whenl had reached my nineteenth year, how hundreds 
of servants ran to and fro, with deer and game . and 
fowls ; how cask on cask of wines and liquors rolled 
through the welcoming gates ; how awning reached 
to awning o'er the wide-spread lawn, shading from 
noon-day sun long boards the eye grew tired to look 
along, and the heart leaped in the mouth lest they 
should break beneath the burthens of goodly proven- 
der, under which they groaned. And all the country 
round was there in holiday attire. How each and 



every one vied with the other in contest of alternate 
•eating and drinking in honor of the hope of our 
huu.se. Shouts of laughter, strains of music, .sounds 
of dancing feet, the hearty merriment of boisterous 
youths and coy coquettes, — all mingled in the air; 
how they made my boyish heart expand within me, 
ere I came among them. Then, when my father 
brought me out, how all was hushed, and I, blushing, 
broke the silence with thanks for their presence and 
best wishes for their enjoyment. How the welkin 
rang with their three times three to Altanero's heir. 
Little knew I, or they, what that heir would inherit: 
poverty — pride — debts — constant contest with scant 
purse to furnish out the appearance of a lord. 

Enter Borracho folhiued by Pedro. 

Borracho. -Ah, ha! old comrade true! What! 
your face is overcast with gloom like that of Heaven ! 
What mean these looks? 

Altanero. — Welcome, good Borracho, friend! Your 
faee would drive away the heaviest clouds and bless 
the house with warmth and light. Welcome. 

Borracho. — Thanks, thanks ! — But give a warmer 
welcome to your friend, who riding briskly through 
the gloomy hills, now feels the need of that old wine 
of your choice cellars. 

Altanero. — Here, Pedro, bring us a measure of wine, 
you sober, solemn knave; and mark you, fetch Amon- 
tillado, and quickly, sirrah! 

Pedro. — [Aside, j 'Tis well you name your wine. 
This is a horse, as a fellow wrote beneath his picture 
o£ that quadruped. 

Exit. 

Borracho. — Egad, friend Altanero, I have come 
with weighty mission hither. These young folks 
make us older ones their servants. Know then, Don 
Altanero of Granada, that my most sovereign son and 
master, Don Rodrigo, sends his most unworthy father 
and servant, Don Borracho, of the Order of tlie Golden 
Fleece, as envoy extraordinary, with full powers to 
treat tor the hand of thy gentlest, fairest, sweetest, 
daughter Isabel. 



6 

Altanero. — Rodrigo seeks the hand of Isabel? 

Borracho. — Yes, and faith, his hot impatience tar- 
ries bnt little behind ray slower speech. So, blurting 
out the truth, I have hastened with my tongue to lead 
his haste. But a little business mars my palate's 
taste. Will you consent to this marriage? 

Altanero. — Make haste slowly, friend. Let me think 
awhile. [Moves to front of stage] This meets well 
my pride and poverty. Rodrigo — an able, learned, 
and already famous son of a house as old as mine — 
with ducal revenues and princely estate. But hold, 
concealed satisfaction will better secure success. [Re- 
turns to and addresses Borracho'] You forget I hold 
no power from Isabel to treat with you on this im- 
portant matter. Has Rodrigo assured himself of her 
consent ? 

Borracho.— He doubts it not, nor do I. What 
think you ? 

Altanero. — Together they have lived so long that 
love, which contiguity ever breeds, must have found 
its way as well to her as to Rodrigo. I will not op- 
pose their wishes — they should move a parent's 
heart. 

Re-enter Pedro, with wine. 

Here's Pedro with wine — let us fill the glasses and 
close our diplomatic parts with warmest wishes for 
the happiness of those whom our labors bring to- 
gether. [Fills the glasses] A long life to them, and 
a pleasant one to us ! 

Borraccho. — Thank you. I have long loved Isabel 
as my own child, and now she will be mine indeed. 
Ah, this marriage brings up the days of yore, when, 
with fair words with the ladies and sure swords with 
our rivals, we won and lost — when hearts were trumps. 
— Egad, but spades will soon turn up, and tell us of 
another trump ! 

Altanero. — Ha ! ha ! good. — I shall inform my 
daughter to-day, that the lovers may the sooner see 
their wishes fulfilled. The anniversary of her birth- 
day, too — the verv time. But, here come the ladies. 



Enter Lady Mariana. Isabel, and Teresa, with 
guests, attendants, <\< . 

My lady, your loving lord salutes you, — and you, 
my daughter. How proud each year, as it comes along, 
makes the fond father, who, as 'twere hut yesterday 
danced the child upon his knee, aud now sees a nohle 
woman stand before him. 

Isabel. — You are. and have been, kind, dear father ; 
and grateful as I am for the protection shown the 
child, I trust the years of my maturity may serve to 
smooth the path and happy make the lives of those 
whom I so dearly love and owe so much. 

Lady Mariana. — Our Gracious Lady guide you, 
Isabel, and guard you from the sorrows which attend 
our years of high responsibility. 

Borracho. — May cares ne'er come to mar your peace. 

Altanero. — But what delays your son, old friend. 
Methinks he should be here. 

Borracho. — [Bustle without] Aye, he is here, even 
as you speak. 

S< want announces 

Don Rodrigo and a friend, 

and withdratvs. 

Enter Rodrigo and Leonardo. 

Rodrigo. — I beg your pardon, Altanero, and fair 
ladies, for my tardiness. But on my way I met, to 
be detained in talking of his cares, my friend, whom, 
(with presumption which you will excuse when you 
have learned his worth,) I bring with me. Don Alta- 
nero, welcome Leonardo of Leon. 

Altanero. — The young yet famous soldier. 

Presents him to Lady Mariana and then In Isabel, 
who starts villi confusion which is turned by — 

Leonardo. — A great resemblance to my dearest 
friend, and we too, must be friends, sweet lady ! 

Isabel slightly bows. 

Borracho. — Welcome, Leonardo, welcome to Gran- 
ada! Your mime lias been upon our lips so often, (and 
with praises,) that 1 almost look upon you as a son. 



to 



Leonardo. — I thank yon, noble sir. 

Altanero. — My friends and guests, we are together 
here, to celebrate the birth-day anniversary of our dear 
child, and to rejoice in plans by which her future is 
assured, an ancient name increased in lustre, by the 
happy union of two houses, [bowing to Borracko] not 
unknown or unesteemed in this proud land. 

General interest and movement. 

Lady Mariana. — [To Isabel] This news chimes well 
with your birth-clay melodies. 

Altanero. — Dear Isabel, now that age comes apace 
on us, your first protectors, it is our desire that Don 
Eodrigo should succeed us in that care, and, as your 
husband, soon assume still higher duties and more 
tender offices. 

Leonardo. — [Aside] Isabel, bethrothed to me, now 
given to my bosom friend ! 

Teresa. — [Aside] The night, without one star of 
hope, is drawing near. 

Altanero. — [Taking Isabel's hand as if to place it in 
Bodrigo' s] Eodrigo, Isabel is yours for life. 

Leonardo.. — [Stepping forward between the parties] 
No ! No ! this cannot be ! — for she is mine, and shall 
remain. Speak, Isabel ! by all the bonds of sweet com- 
munion and affection — the sacred pledges by which I 
have lived since last we met — speak, Isabel, and tell 
the world that our lives, bound by holy ties, are one 
— speak, by the love you bear me, and by your faith 
in God — oh, speak, and dissipate the cloud which 
closes round and stifles hope ! 

Isabel. — Leonardo — 

Bodrigo. — What demon of discord here have I in- 
troduced, where all was peace ! How dare you, rash 
man, to assert right in this place, where by uncon- 
scious folly and my lord's too willing trust, you are 
by sufferance? 

Leonardo. — The uniform I wear, by loyalty and 
bravery won, explains and justifies my presence here 
or elsewhere in the Spanish realm. 

Bodrigo. — Dog, you lie ! For treason to the State 



lias banished you this realm. The hour of twelve 
will doom you to a felon/ s grave. 
All. — Treason ! 

Leonardo. — That hour suffices! If you are, what 
dress, and not your record shows, a man, with right 
and heart to wear and wield a sword, then draw, and 
prove with life or brave defence thereof, your right 
thus to upraid me, one, by rank your equal and by 
prowess mayhap more. 

They d i xi iv. 
Isabel.— -Kestrain rash hands, that would, in raging- 
rush of rivalry, break down the fair, brave citadel of 
life, and sorrow send to many loving hearts. Rodrigo, 
if you have my father's favor and dare hope for mine, 
return your sword into its sheath. O Leonardo, leave 
this hostile place, and trust that God, who gave our 
love, will yet fulfill its dearest hopes ! 

Altanero. — Begone, you treason-tainted villain, ere 
I anticipate the law's most righteous doom. Use well 
your time ! Presume to place your feet again within 
these walls, and, by the name I bear, your life shall 
not escape my wrath. 

Leonardo. — At her entreaty, not at your commands 
and threats, I leave a place where naught but love for 
her can load me to return. But, haughty man, be- 
ware how far you force that girl to bend to your im- 
perious will. Dare cause a pang to her, and all your 
walls and slaves shall not retain this brightest jewel 
in Spain's diadem ! Dear Isabel, adieu ! 

Exit. 
Isabel. — Farewell ! Farewell ! 



10 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. — Garden in the rear of Altanero's Mansion. 
A terrace overlooking the sea. Twilight. Storm 
still threatening , ivith occasional flashes of light- 
ning and dull rumblings of thunder. 

Enter Eodrigo. 

Rodrigo. — This, the reward of study — of years of 
labor over tomes of learning — of years of racking 
thought to understand this world and act thence in 
accordance with its laws, — this the reward, to be the 
fickle wind ! Aye, now I blow me like the gentle 
breeze that even would hesitate to rob the thistle of its 
down, or steal the perfume of the violet ; anon, I blus- 
ter like a whirling gust, that threatens to uproot an 
oak and raises only dust; again, I knit my brows, and 
with a sullen howl, hang round these ocean cliffs even 
like the storm to-night ; again, I rage and roar, blind 
passion's hurricane, that would hurl down the castle 
of my father o'er his hoary head, and bury him — my 
sacred sire, and even myself beneath the ruins : un- 
certain, rash and ruthless wind! — Curse on the years 
of study that have borne, not Wisdom, fair and good, 
but Doubt, the monster, foul and grim ! Do I love 
Isabel? Ten hours ago, I could have sworn I did ; 
nine hours ago my tongue was dumb ; eight hours 
ago, I could have thrown me at her feet in worship, 
and have dared a crusade for her holy shrine; an hour 
from then, my arm was palsied, and my sword made 
blunt, whilemy vain tongue did vaunt it like a turkey- 
cock ! — This damning doubtin action ! — The saucy up- 
start, traitor to his king, and traitor to his friend, to 
cross my pathway at the very gate of Heaven, and I 
stand by, with humbled head and bended knee, to let 
him enter! — But hark! What visitor to Altanero's 
garden under cover of the night! 

Withdraws. 



11 

Enter Leonardo, springing up on the terrace, and 
his Lieutenant, irho appear*, with one-half of his per- 
son in sight, as if standing below. 

Leonardo. — Return for me, Lieutenant, in one hour. 
Await below my coining — then to our good ship, weigh 
anchor and quickly take due course for Cyprus. 

Exit Lieutenant . 

Yes, to Cyprus. Though exiled from Spain. I shall 
bear in my arms, a world! 

Enter Isabel and Teresa. Leonardo and Isabel em- 
brace, 

Teresa. — [Aside'] Yes, yes. embrace. Doth not 
Dame Nature wink in twilight at true love's delight? 
And why should I, who oncedidfeel the mystic charm 
and know its joy, more heed the act than she, whose 
plaything I have been, and all must be? 

Stands apart. 

Leonardo. — Dear Isabel, my life the forfeit pays, if 
I be found within this realm, before two years expire — 
so runs ray monarch's stern decree. Even now my 
conscience warns me that for my brief foothold here, 
o'er ocean's storms, the price is death. But love this 
time has waived aside the honor which naught else 
could move — the bribe to hold you thus within my 
arms breaks down the pride which bids me hence. 

Isabel. — Why risk so much, Leonardo? The joy 
in being with you here, is dashed with fear lest lurk- 
ing spies surprise you. 

Leonardo. — I come to take you, Isabel, far hence 
from all this grief, from tortures of your love delayed, 
from suits of lovers spurned, and from their sight, anil 
from the anger of your thwarted father. 

Isabel. — But where could we escape all these, dear 
Leonardo? 

Leonardo. — In Cyprus, where await the softest nest 
for fleeing birds, the gentlest winds to kiss the cheek, 
the rarest flowers to charm the eye and spread around 
o'er all their rich perfumes, the sweetest music from 
the warbling of the birds and sighing of the winds, 
and fruits and vines that proudly might have hung in 



12 

Eden's bowers, — all these await our happy bridal 
hour in Cyprus' isle, love-decked of old by Yenus* self. 
There will you go with me, dear Isabel ? 

Isabel. — Leonardo, ask me not. My parents grow 
to age, and need that care which love, a daughter's 
love, alone bestows. Can you not turn aside the 
wrath of our good king, return to Spain, and win 
your way to father's heart, as you have done to mine? 

Leonardo. — No, Isabel, there's naught but free and 
prompt obedience will prevail against our king's dis- 
pleasure, once incurred. Were this not so, your father 
ne'er would hear my name, unless to launch fresh 
curses at my head. But, fly with me, a loving, 
trusting bride, and when two years have passed in joy 
in our bright island home, we will return to Spain 
with honor and with pride ; the king once more will 
smile on Leonardo ; wealth and station come again to 
him, and these may win him smiles where now no favor 
is. Dear Isabel, no hope is left to us, save that which 
sails my waiting ship with you, most precious freight 
on board. If } T ou remain, I go, with constant sorrow 
and despair, most fit companions for a lonely exile, to 
wander, and ere long to die. Yes, death would be re- 
lief to life which held not you. 

Isabel. — No more. The royal ban, which drives you 
hence, expels me too, for we are one. Where you are 
I must be. [Calls] Teresa ! [To Leonardo] One mo- 
ment — then — 

Exeunt Isabella and Teresa. 

Enter Rodrigo. 

Rodrigo. — Leonardo of Leon, your sword. Your 
life is now your king's. Yield, sir, or perish by the 
avenging sword of him whose dearest plans you dare 
to thwart — most thankful that the baser blade of com- 
mon executioner sends not your spirit to eternity ! 

Leonardo. — Approach me not, or by our Holy Faith 
this trusty sword, now gory with proud battle's hon- 
ors, shall wash them all away in the black blood of a 
base, treacherous spy! Approach me not. 

Rodrigo attacks . They fight. At atlirust of Rodrigo, 
Leonardo staggers back ivounded and, falls over the 
terrace into the sea. as — 



Re-enter Isabel and Teresa. 
Isabel.— [Seeing Leonardo fall] God! it is he f 

Faints. 
Exit Rodrigo rapidly. Thunder and lightning. Dark- 
ness increased. 

Teresa. — Aye, it is lie ! Rodrigo, was it not enough 
to Wight a loving girl's confiding heart, to separate 
the mother from her habe, and drive her forth into a 
cold, unpitying world, with naught to hide her loath- 
some leprosy but this poor, flimsy garment of a gov- 
erness, which keen suspicion's first and faintest word 
would cut away; but must you burthen her still more 
with sight of your foul murder of a fellow man? 
Woe ! woe ! to love a base seducer ! Woe ! woe ! to 
love a murderer ! Woe! woe! to bear the constant, 
pointed pain and crushing burthen of his guilt — a 
loved one's guilt — and all alone ! 

Assists Isabel. 

Isabel. — [Recovering'] Help! help! A light! — Is 
this the night, Teresa? Was it the spectre of a dream? 
Or, did I see my Leonardo wounded, fall into the rag- 
ing sea? say Teresa, 'twas the spectre of a dream! 

Teresa. — It was the spectre of the dream of life — the 
night which ends in death ! — and more than thou are 
dreaming of the spectres of fell murder. — more than 
thou are blindly staring in this night whose morn is in 
the grave ! Rise. Isabel, for more than thou are bend- 
ing under woes, whose weight exceeds thine own. 
Poor child, it is the night, but thou, though staring 
in thy sleep, canst not perceive the gloom. Thy sad 
awakening is near at hand, and then — thy dream of 
love is o'er. 

Enter Altanero, Lady Mariana, Borracho, Pedro, 
and servants bearing lights. 

Altanero. — Isabel ! That you should prove un- 
grateful — that you should desert your aged father — 
disgrace and desolate the home your presence made so 
happy ! My daughter, my daughter, come back ! — 
angry sea, spare her life! storm-king, drive her 
back to me — the erring girl, she knows not what she 
dues! 



14 

Teresa. — Call not, blind father, on tlie sea andstorm. 
Eestrain your clamorous grief. Your daughter's here! 

All move toward Isabel. 

Lady Mariana. — My child, my child! Heavenly 
Father, I thank Thee! 

Borracho. — Our grief is turned to joy ! 

Altanero. — [Raising Isabel] You have not fled 
from me then, Isabel. 0, joy to hold you in my arms 
again ! Look up and speak to me, dear daughter. 

Kisses her. 

Isabel. — Father — [A cry for help, as if from beneath 
the cliff, is heard, repeated faintly several times] 'Tis 
he! 'Tis Leonardo! He cries for help! father 
save him ! 

Bor radio. — A rope! a rope! Quick! 

Exit servant. 

Isabel. — Holy Mother, whose Son didst still the 
angry billows, and walk the humbled waves of Gali- 
lee, implead with Him for Leonardo's life! 

Re-enter servant, with rope. 

Borracho. — [Tying rope around Pedro] No quak- 
ing now ! Descend and save a human life — 'tis more 
than war's blood-purchased honors. 

Servants lower Pedro over the cliff. 

Teresa. — [Aside] Oh God of pity ! give this brave 
man the strength to save the life of Leonardo, and 
spare Rodrigo's brow, already scorched before the 
damning brand of murder! 

Pedro is drawn up with a ivrecked pirate. 

Borracho. — A thousand pistoles for this act ! 

Pirate. — My thanks, good sirs, for aid — alas ! — too 
late! The pirates' hope, the dreaded "Eagle," lies 
now wrecked below, and I will not survive her death ! 

Teresa. — [Aside] It is not Leonardo! Alas ! then 
he is dead! Rodrigo is a murderer ! 

Isabel. — Not Leonardo! Father — mother — help — 
farewell. 

Falls into lady Mariana's arms. 

Pirate. — A priest! — or must a pirate die unshrived. 

Dies . 



15 



A C T III. 

SCENE 1. — A room inAUanero's mansion. Altanero 
and Borraciio discovered at a table, with cards, 
money, and wine Pedro standing behind. Evening. 

Altanero. — Pedro, help your master and myself to 
wine. Let its warm, rich life infuse itself into 
these well-worn frames and sluggish veins, until our 
boyish days come back to us — the days when we knew 
not the meaning of passion, of poverty and pride, 
when, with keen appetites, we passed from pleasure to 
pleasure, too careless to analyze, too busy to regret. 
Fill up, old comrade, ere we play again, and let us 
drink to the old, old days. 

Borracho. — { Intoxicated] Yes, wine ! Give me 
wine, for wine loves me, and 1 love it ! To forget is 
happiness. He is a fool who would not drink, for by 
the cup, we become rich, well clothed, well fed, aye, 
kings of wealth and power unreached by common 
sovereigns. Wine, Pedro, give me wine ! 

Pedro. — [Fills {lie glasses'] But not new wine into 
old bottles, else the}" break — their necks. 

Borraccho. — Yes, philosophy even from Pedro is 
philosophy. You are young, Pedro, and remember 
this, you must hold the wine — not the wine hold you. 
Drinking will not hurt a man : only fools, who know 
not how not how to drink, suffer. 

Altanero. — [Aside] The cursed old fool is drunk. 
His philosophy is a sure sign of his loss of reason. 
[They drink] Now, comrade, for the play which makes 

one of us the winner. There is the king of spades 

[Borracho falls asleep] Curse the luck ! [Rises'] I have 
been losing to lead him on, and now befalls senseless, 
when I begin to win. The last of my high-bred horses 
goes to his well-filled stables to pay for this evening's 
entertainment. [Turns to Pedro] Harkee. sirrah! 



16 

you feel proud of your rich master, do you not? 
Yours should be a well paid service. 

Pedro. — Time is money. Money is power. My 
time is his money. The laborer is worthy of his hire. 

Altanero. — True, you knave, and I have wasted 
precious time both with master and with man. Ke- 
move Borracho to a chamber, that he may find in 
slumber a partial renewal of his powers. Out with 
him ! 

Servants enter and, witJi Pedro, carry out Borracho. 

May he awake to forgetfulness of his winnings, 
small to him, but great to one so poor as I. What a 
maddening curse is poverty, when wedded with pride t 
I could retrieve my fortunes, if once this marriage of 
Eodrigo with my daughter could be consummated. 
By-the-way, this is the day, appointed by herself, 
after nearly two years of woman-whinings over the 
death of Leonardo, on which she was to give Eodrigo 
a final answer to his suit. I will send for her. (She 
shall marry him. I have sworn it, by the proud name 
I bear, and no obstacle shall stand to break that oath. 
What ho! without there ! [Enter servant] Convey to 
your young mistress my love and wish that she attend 
me here. [Exit servant] We shall see, now, in what 
mind we fiud the stubborn lady. Her obstinacy would 
make a saint forget affection ! 

Enter Isabel. 

Isabel. — Most loved and respected Sir, at your com- 
mands, I wait. 

Altanero. — And is there no softer word in your vo- 
cabulary, my most loving and respectful daughter, 
that you must choose the harsh and grating word 
"command," in indicating your unwilling acquies- 
cence in my humble wish to see you ? 

Isabel. — Dear father, sorrow and perplexity have so 
racked your daughter's mind as to leave her weak to 
choose where her foot may fall when walking, much 
less to mark the words which hardly flutter through 
her lips to the unresponsive air. 

Altanero. — Come, my child, a truce alike to melan- 
choly thoughts and to unseemly encounters upon 



17 

words, which are, at Lest, but poor and uncertain 
messengers of our thoughts. ****** 
\* * I wished to see you, dear, this day, ap- 
pointed by yourself, to learn the welcome news that 
Rodrigo's suit bad met with your acceptance. I have 
told you how the revenues, by which our family once 
matched sovereigns in pomp and hospitality," have 
wasted, slowly and inevitably, under the proud and 
generous hands of successive generations. If Rodrigo 
receives your hand, we can walk again with confi- 
dence and pride these halls, whose atmosphere is laden 
with grand traditions of our once legal splendor; and 
your poor old father, the last of his race, can go to his 
final rest, 'peacefully, because your future is assured; 
thankfully, because Providence, in making him poor, 
yet gave him a daughter; proudly, because the sacred 
and honorable inheritance received by him may be, by 
him. delivered up to a worthy successor, undiminished 
and unstained. If you refuse his suit, my mind, long- 
used to other thoughts, knows not how 'to draw that 
death, in hovel, poverty and wretchedness, which 
awaits a poor and broken-hearted husband and father, 
win. leaves, without shelter or care, to the cold chari- 
ties of an unfeeling world, the wife of his bosom and 
the tender child — the sole remaining fruit of a life-long 
love. I await confidently your reply, for you are a 
true daughter of the Altaneros, and desire our proud 
continuance. 

Enter Lady Mariana and Teresa. 

Isabel. — Father, spare me now. I am not strong. 
I will try to do my duty. 

Altanero. — I will, my daughter. You need not 
answer me, but, when Rodrigo comes, you must have 
strength enough to make us all happy/ 

Exit. 

Lady Mariana.- My poor girl, have you, as I bade 
you, sought counsel and guidance of Heaven? The 
blessed promise, ask and it shall be given you, is not 
an empty one, nor does the good book mock us when 
it says, as thy days, so shall thy strength be. 

Isabel. — Yes, mother, I have prayed — oh, how often 



18 

and earnestly ! — that I might be enabled to see my 
duty, as pointed out by father, by you, and by our 
necessities : but all is still deep darkness without one 
ray of light. 

Lady Mariana. — God thus seeks to uproot sweet 
yet sinful attachments which divide with him the do- 
minion of our hearts. Isabel, I once suffered, as you 
now do, but, praise be to our Lady of Grace and her 
Blessed Son, I found at last that peace which passeth 
all understanding. I believe that you will find this 
rest, for I have prayed night after night, for your de- 
liverance from doubt. 

Isabel. — All is so dark, so dark, and, as I grope 
along, the outstretched hand finds no guide, the falter- 
ing feet no firm earth to stand upon. If it were not 
a sin, I would rather pray our Father to take back the 
sorrowing soul which scarcely animates my weakened 
body. 

Lady Mariana. — Peace, child, wrong not Him, 
who doeth all things well. I will leave you with 
Teresa, whose firmer nature and more experienced 
mind, will strengthen you for the duty which yet re- 
mains to be done. Exit. 

Isabel. — [Falling on Teresa's neck] Teresa! 
Teresa! what shall I do! My father, my mother, 
constrain me, their necessities are urgent, and Rodrigo, 
who asks my hand, and who loves me as his life, is 
all that a woman could wish her lover to be. Yet 
I feel, that, should I consent, I would wrong my own 
soul and the dear memory of the dead. What can I 
do, Teresa? 

Teresa. — Rodrigo — all a woman could wish her 
lover to be ! — Come not to me, my lady, for how can 
I, to whom the world's almost unknown, explain the 
hidden mysteries of the heart? Why one should de- 
sire, another detest ; one sue for, another reject ? None 
but God, by whom our natures are given, can solve the 
eternal problem of love. 

Isabel. — Rodrigo will be here ere long. There is 
no escape for me, and yet I know not what to do. 

Teresa,.— This I have read, my ladv, that Love will 



19 

clothe its object, without reason, with all that's 
worthy of itself; and that there is no greater grief 
than for Love to be rudely awakened from its dream 
with the knowledge that it has bestowed itself on one 
unworthy — awakened too when it lias spent its wealth 
and power upon the stony heart of selfishness. 

Killer servant who announces 
Don Rodrigo 

(Dal retires, 
Enter Romtiwo. 

Isabel . — lie is here. Heaven help me ! 

Rodrigo. — [Advances mnl. bowing, kisses Isabel's 
hand] I salute you, fair lady. By your own appoint- 
ment, ami spurred by continual devotion, 1 am here 
to lay again at your feet my wealth, my title, and my 
lite, and to learn whether they are worthy of the kind 
regard of her, whose smile will repay me for all. 

Isabel. Teresa, leave us for awhile. 

Teresa. — [Aside, as shi retires] And leave all hope 
behind. \\ hat finer clay and loftier spirit unite to 
form the nobleman and privilege him to blast the love 
and life of the peasant girl, and, with imperious will, 
to choose his bride among the fairesl and the noblest of 
the land? Stands apart . 

Isabel. — Rodrigo. you still press me for an answer? 

Rodrigo. — Yes. Isabel, for, secluded as you have 
been from all society save that of older persons or 
menials, I can understand why, when you are asked 
to decide a matter, affecting your weal or woe for lite, 
you are in doubt and hesitate to speak the final word. 
But think of, Isabel, the two year's torment I have 
suffered ; think, that more than twenty times the moon 
has waxed and waned, and twice the earth performed 
its circuit round the sun, since I placed, with your 
father's favor, my suit before you ; think, that my 
love has been uncomplaining : that its patience has 
equalled its depth : that 1 have not vexed you with 
importunate lover's arts ; that 1 have, without mur- 
mur, waited until this day, your own choice, to hear 
the words which determine my future. 

Isabel. — Rodrigo, I have ind 1 reason to thank v >u 



20 

for your forbearance. I always have regarded you as 
a friend^ — one, who to me would be kind and careful 
beyond all around me. When we were children, we 
have climbed the mountains, and crossed, on uncertain 
stones, the brawling streams. Always you guided,, 
supported, and protected me. Later, when in my 
studies, inexperience had failed to solve perplexities, 
I found you ever a sure resort. And now, will you 
bear with me, and hear a doubt which disturbs me? 

Rodrigo. — If aught that my poor powers may dis- 
cern, will aid you, joy and pride will accompany their 
exercise. 

Isabel. — You know then that Leonardo had my love; 
that to him my first and best love clung ; that at his 
death the pulse of affection within me ceased. Can 
you hope for happiness from union with the ashes of 
affection, with the skeleton of love? Why do you 
wish this wreck to be your wife? 

Rodrigo. — On what has the love-laden vessel been 
shattered? You knew this hero for a few weeks when 
you were but a child, and lavished upon him the wealth 
of your affection. He is dead. Now you, with youth, 
beauty, and position would bury yourself in the grave 
of an unknown — aye, would drag with you your aged 
father and saintly mother. Isabel, let the result of 
my careful study of the human heart tell you that 
true love is begotten by long and constant intercourse, 
by years of intimacy, by community of tastes and. 
studies, by mutual experience and united interests, by 
that charm which is the growth of the companionship 
of proven worth and unquestioned beauty; all these 
conditions have been ours and dictate our union. Fur- 
ther your father's comfort and your mother's. happiness, 
both clear to you, impel you to be mine. I promise 
you that they shall be my constant care, when I have 
acquired the right to minister unto them ; that they 
shall know no wish ungratified — no sorrow that pre- 
caution can prevent ; they shall, in their old age, en- 
joy that peace which' is the true transition from this 
life to eternity ; and, when they see their only child 
loved, and earnestly cared for, by one whose wealth 
and power and life are all subservient to her, they will 



21 

pass away from earth with calm and sweet satisfac- 
tion. Think of all this, dear Isabel, and believe that 
where so many good motives direct yon to one course, 
that course must lead to peace and happiness. 

Isabel . — Leave me now, Rodrigo, and I promise you 
that to-moirow shall bring you my answer. 

Ilodrujo. — To-morrow ? 

Isabel. — Yes, to-morrow. My weakness must ex- 
cuse me now. 

Rodrigo. — To-morrow then, and bear in mind how 
I yearn to have the right to banish that pallor from 
your cheek, that weakness from your limbs,, and to re- 
store the bloom, the strength and joy which should 
attend your youth and beauty. Adieu! 

Exit. 

Isabel . — Teresa, why should 1 uphold longer my 
weak woman's will against the manifest decrees of 
Heaven ? Since Leonardo's death, all hope, all wish, 
all aim, have left this body, and why should I not give 
the lifeless form to any one, if, by such an act, 1 can 
purchase peace and comfort for the remaining years of 
my beloved parents ? 

Teresa. — Poor child ! to mourn to one more mourn- 
ful than yourself. 

Isabel. — [Sin gs] 

I saunter on the sandy shore, 

Where the waves seem'd merry girls, 
Bedecking themsel's, with sea-weed and shells, 

And flowers of foam in their curls ; — 
Where now I see in the foam a shroud, 

As if toss'd on eternity's bed, 
And hear a moan from the depths unknown ! — 

Alas ! he is dead ! he is dead J 

1 wander through the wooded glen, 

Where Nature seem'd a child, 
That, round trees, play'd at catch, with the merry nut-hatch, 

And in the flow 'rets smil'd ; — 
Where now the deadly night-shade grows, 

And the owl echoes, overhead, 
'The clods' mournful sound as they fell in the ground — 

Alas! o'er the dead! o'r the dead! 



22 



Ah ! there is no beauty again to the eye 

That bedews a lover's mould, 
And no more music again to the ear 

That has beard a lover knoll 'd ; 
When tha heart-strings are struck by the Harper of Death, 

Forever has harmony fled: 
The lark nevermore shall witli melody soar: — 

Alas ! he is dead ! he is dead !* 



*Thc Love-lorn Lady's Lament, writien by Frank Cowan, in the winter 
1866-7. It may be snug to the time of Pass under the Rod," slightly modified. 



A C T IV. 

SCENE I. — A hall in a prison. Noon. 

Enter Barnabas. 

\m Barnabas. — A gallus cove, he! A jolly pirate — be!" 
It is a sweet sound when gold clinks with a jailer's 
key.— He got it easy — a gallus pirate! Who dare- 
not rob a robber? — The cove's in love, too — stares 
from this tower's window at old Altanero's moping 
girl as if his eyes would leap from their sockets! — 
Love's a gallus cove — he is — would sell his soul for the 
sight of a wench's petticoat a league off!- Love's a 
fool — he is — to think this key will turn, except for 
gold, — show him a wench's duds, except for gold, — 
and hear her scraps of scribbled paper, except for 
gold — Ha ! bear the scraps of paper to the fire and 
pocket the gold! What, need a jailer-king be a fool- 
ish clown to meddle with a noble's plans — for a few 
pence have a broken crown — and all for a ]ove-sick 
pirate in a dungeon? 

Ha ! a jailer-king, let me dance and sing! 
For the sceptre, I hold, 
Fills my coffers with gold, — 
Hurra ! for the jailer-king ! 

Exit~ 



Re-enter Barnabas with Leonardo, In irons and in 

rags. 
Leonardo. — And said she nothing? And did she 
not give yon a letter — a token — a word ! 

Barnabas. — She said yon were a crazy pirate, and 
she gave me a cntf for yon, which, take with interest ! 

Cuffs him. 

Leonardo.— -Wretch, you lie! — Come within the 
circle of these manacles, and your brains will spatter 
these prison walls! Yon gave her not my letter; she 
has not seen my blood-written words ; she did not call 
me pirate; your own savage heart has conjured up this 
brutal message! 

Barnabas. — Goon! rant! gall your limbs vyith your 
irons ! hack your voice with bellowing ! — then back to 
your cell to a dinner of straw, for naught shall you 
eat to-day except your filthy bed! — Call me a liar? 
Ha ! ;i gallus cove, are you ! She not only called you 
a liar, but added, tell the fool that to-night Rodrigo, 
the noble, rich and handsome, bears me to his home 
a willing, joyous bride! — Call me a liar ? Heard you 
not the bells at break of day — heard you not their iron 
tongues peal out the merry wedding chimes? 

Leonardo. — Mock me not. I may not be what 1 
appear. Wounded, half drowned, and cast on shore 
with the wreck of the "Eagle," the dreaded ship of 
the pirates, yet I may not be a pirate; carried half in- 
sensible before my judges, accused, condemned, and 
submitting to my sentence, as a pirate, yet I may not 
be a pirate; thrown into a loathsome dungeon, mana- 
cled and maltreated as a pirate, yet I may not be a 
pirate. Beware then how you taunt me. Now give 
me her message aright. 

Barnabas. — Perhaps not a pirate — submitting as 
such — carried to this keep as such — fed on musty 
bred and rotten meat as such — and all this for nigh 
two years — and not a pirate! Then a tool — a gallus 
fool, which is seven times worse! — Perhaps I lie — per- 
haps I taunt you — perhaps I mock you? Would you 
like to look from yonder window, and see the flags 
fluttering for very joy over the houses of Altanero and 
Borracho? I'll fetch' the ladder. Exit 



24 

Leonardo. — Can this be true? No, no; her heart is 
knit with mine so closely and so surely that naught 
save death can sever us^, and even his rude hand must 
yield ere long before our love, for were the all-con- 
straining will of death to woo and win my Isabel, my 
soul, bereft of her, in seeking for the channels of its 
accustomed thoughts, would find them gone ; and, 
shrinking inwardly, with saddened silence, would 
cease to be, until a God of Mercy sent again to earth 
his messenger to find the wanting part of our immor- 
tal life. And I am bold to look once more from yon- 
der window at the walls which hold my Isabel — oh, 
how these wasted, shackled arms do envy them! — and 
she perhaps may gaze at vacant air in thoughts of 
me, and then, our souls in mid-space meeting, will 
renew the vows which make us one. — This jailer, 
however, may be deceiving me! Alas! if my submis- 
sion to the charge of piracy, to save my life, and be in 
Spain near Isabel, should prove my death — aye, 
worse than death a thousand fold—within the sight 
of Isabel, almost within my call, to see her carried to 
the altar, and to Aved my murderer, as she and all 
must deem him! Heard I not her voice as I fell from 
the cliff? Saw she not the murderer ? And can she — 
Isabel — accept the hand, red with the blood of him, 
for whom she would have dared the rage of seas, the 
wrath of parents thwarted, and shared an exile's 
shame and poverty? No ! no ! it cannot be! This 
jailor does but mock me. For what cares he for aught 
I love? Was it not but yesterday, when my tamed 
spider, at my call, crept in to cheer me in my solitude, 
that he, the cruel jailor, trod my fellow-prisoner under 
foot, laughing the while like a demon — " Ha! a gal- 
lus bloated cove!*' — Oh, that I could have brained the 
monster on the spot! 

Re-enter Barnabas, with ladder. 

Barnabas. — Perhaps I mock you ? — There take the 
ladder, and gaze until your eyes weep tears of blood. 

Leonardo. — [Climbs ladder to ivindow] It is as he 
has said. I see the flags, the bustle of the servants, and 
the carriages of the noblemen. But on the terrace, 
whence I fell, and where I oft have seen a female. form 



25 

appear, dark-dad in robes of woe, and stand as if she 
gazed, with wistful looks, upon the sea that swallowed 
all she loved — so I fondly dreamed, — I now see naught. 
But hold ! — is that a gleam of sunlight from the 
waves ! — No, it is a form in robes of white ! — Oh, 
look! she hurls herself into the sea ! No ! no ! my 
brain is reeling ! Help ! help ! [Staggers doivn sev- 
eral rounds of the ladder, and falls on the floor , gasping 
for breath] Break heart — welcome, death. 

Gasps as if strangled by his collar. 
Barnabas. — Ha ! a gallus strangled cove ! — Perhaps 
I lie ? Perhaps 1 mock you ? 

Leonardo. — [Gasping'] One breath of air! — then let 
me die in peace. Unlock this iron band ! 

Barnabas. — [Unlocks the collar, and as Leonardo re- 
covers] Ha ! a throttled cove ! — Perhaps I lie ? 

Leonardo. — [Suddenly springing up and clutching 
Barnabas by the throat, (his loosened collar, to which 
his wrists were bound, giving him free use of his hands,) 
and throwing him on the floor] Yes, lie! and now con- 
fess, you villain ! [Choking him] You have never 
carried her my letters ? 

Barnabas. — No ! — let me go ! 

Leonardo. — You have never told Isabel what 1 bade 
you, and what you bargained to do ? 

Barnabas. — No! — help ! — let me go ! 

Leonardo. — No, die, as you deserve to ! Die ! your 
brains dashed out with the key of my deliverance from 
a pirates cell ! Die ! that these withered arms may 
clasp once more the one for whom they long have 
yearned ! Die ! 

Faints and falls senseless. 

Barnabas. — \ Recovering and disengaging himself 
from under Leonardo] Ha ! a gallus crazy cove !— 
with a grip like a vice ! — I thought I was gone ! I 
saw my mother in her old red gown hang over the 
jailer-king's coffin! — What, the cove still kicks ! I'll 
collar him again. [Locks the collar] Now, back to 
your cell, — but, perhaps I mock you ? 

Leonardo. — No, vou do not mock me. — Yes, take 



26 

me back to my cell, and when I die — it will not be 
long — write on the door — the door of my tomb, — write, 
Leonardo of Leon, for I am he ! 

Barndbrs. — [Aside] Ha ! Leonardo of Leon ! — the 
famous soldier — the banished man! — A prize ! a prize! 
His head is worth a thousand gold doubloons ! — I'll to 
the King ! A gallus banished cove ! 

Leonardo. — Yes, Leonardo of Leon. Jailer, listen. 
Altanero's daughter, Isabel, is betrothed to me. She 
believes me to be dead, and is forced to marry Rod- 
rigo. Release me, and whatever reward you can ask 
from my father's estate shall be yours. 

Barnabus. — Ha! a bribing cove ! — Oh, no; a gallus 
bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. 

Leonardo. — Here is a ring, our names inscribed 
therein, sewn up in these poor rags. Show it to Isa- 
bel, and say that I still live, and it is yours. 

Barnabas. — A ring ? I'll go. Give it to me. [Tears 
it out^] But perhaps I lie ? Perhaps I mock you? — 
Ha ! back to your cell, you banished traitor ! This 
proof of Leonardo's presence here in Spain will lay his 
head upon the block, and put within this hand one 
thousand gold doubloons! Ha ! a gallus ring ! 

Leonardo. Gro, accursed villain, to the King! Say 
Leonardo of Leon is in your cell. Say too, he longs 
for death, not by the villiany of a brutal jailer, but by 
the command of the King, for whom he oft has risked 
his life on deck and field in fierce engagement. Lead 
me back to my cell. 

Barnabas. — Ha ! agallus banished cove! One thou- 
sand gold doubloons ! Come ! Exeunt. 



SCENE 11. —Cathedral. Space just before the attar. 
Afternoon. 

Enter, in front. Altanero, Lady Mariana, Isabel, 
Borracho,Rodrigo, Teresa, and others, inbridal array, 
ivhile at the same time, enter from rear, boys bearing 
tapers, followed by the Priest in his vestments. Mu- 
sic is heard from behind the altar. The boys arrange 
their tapers, and the Priest stands before the altar. 



27 

The bridal party approach and arro/ngt themselves 
properly to the right and left of the Priest . 

Priest. — Dearly beloved, we are gathered together 
here in sight of God and in the face of this company, 
to join together this Man and Woman in holy Matri- 
mony. If any man can show just cause why they 
may not lawfully be joined together, I require and 
charge him, as lie shall answer at the dreadful day of 
judgment, when the secrets of all hearts are disclosed, 
now to speak, or else hereafter forever to hold his 
peace. For be well assured, that if any are joined to- 
gether otherwise than as God's Word doth allow. 
their marriage is not lawful. 

Teresa,. — There is one here, most holy Man of God, 
whose desolated heart is written o'er and o'er with 
burning, damning proofs which bar the consumma- 
tion of these marriage vows. 

Lady Mariana. — Protect us, Gracious Lady ! what 
can my daughter's guide and governess at this late 
hour object against this marriage? 

Teresa. — Teresa Mauritan asserts her rights; Rod" 
rigo is her husband in the light of truth and by the 
laws of Heaven; for he, a lover, came, with fair false 
face, and won her pure and trusting heart ; and then, 
more harsh and cruel than the beasts of desert wilds, 
who milder grow when dam and suckling pass, this 
proud, relentless man, with sneer, and scoff, did 
spurn his child, did taunt, and spit upon, and cast 
away to shame the mother who, in secret pain, with- 
out complaint, had borne this son— the offspring of 
her trust and his deceit ! 

Rodrigo. — I pray you, Father, heed not words that 
rush so madly forth from one, who owns herself unfit 
to stand within this church, — much less to bar these 
sacraments. She is a Moor, also, the constant enemy 
of Spain's nobility, unless it bears the taint of heathen 
sires. 

Teresa,. — She scorns to mark the sneer that ill be- 
comes a man. There are black taints of blood, which 
do not come from our descent; for see that hand, ex- 
tended there in solemn form with pledge and em- 
blem of eternal love, — 'tis foul with human blood ; 



28 

that hand, just joined in soft caress with purity, did 
take the life of man — -the life of Leonardo of Leon ! 

Isabel. — Rodrigo murder Leonardo ! 

Teresa. — Aye, he did murder him! I now see him, 
with red and reeking sword yet drawn, as he, by con- 
science driven, fled the sight of man. I see now Leo- 
nardo, as he, wounded, fell into the sea, while thun- 
ders rolled and angry, lashing waves did reach their 
arms to lightning-riven clouds ! 

Altanero. — Such was the night of that dark day, on 
which their swords were drawn for Isabel ! Revenge 
and jealousy the motives? 

BorraeJw. — Oh, that our ancient family's lustre 
should end in the darkness of a murderer's grave ! 

Rodrigo. — Believe her not ! She raves ! Insanity's 
distinctness bears the semblance of remembered truth! 
She raves ! 

Teresa. — Base man, dare you, within the house of 
G-od, before his consecrated priest, with vows still 
fresh upon your lips, to imitate the bold, unblushing 
guilt of Cain, and make reply unto your Maker? 
Hear }^ou not the mighty waters'" moan proclaim 
your guilt, as murdered Abel's blood did cry to 
God from outraged earth? And hear you not poor Is- 
abel's wild shriek, which pierced the vault of Heaven, 
and there recorded her great grief and your black 
crime ? And you to wed the one, whose love and life 
you crushed forever then? Just God! 

Isabel. — Oh, has a loathsome stream of crime been 
flowing underneath this sheen of ic) r crystals which 
so dazzled all ! 

Rodrigo. — This is too much ! Her words burn 
through my soul ! [His head/alls on his breast. All 
shrink away from, him. Turns to Teresa^] Pale phan- 
tom of a dead and expiated past, Avhy rise again to 
turn my hopes into statues of stone? Why come 
from buried years to rake the ashes of long burnt-out 
joys for living coals? Oh, will you never rest? Then 
let the shroud, the coffin, and the heavy clod forever 
hold you down ! 

Attempts to stab her. 



29 

BorracJio. — [Restraining him] Hold ! hold, my son ! 

Teresa. — Aye, stab me now with steel, and end this 
life already stabbed so oft by you with shame and 
woe ! 

Priest. — My children, peace ! [To Rodrigo] My 
son, this charge is grave ; and this no place nor time 
to weigh it. Accuser and accused should meet else- 
where for judgment. Until then, your sword, Rod- 
rigo. The laws of man and God alike call you now 
to account. 

Takes Ms sword. 



A C T V . 

SCENE 1. — A prison hall. Rodrigo and the Priest 

discovered. Forenoon. 

Rodrigo. — That I am the betrayer of Teresa and 
the murderer of Leonardo, I have confessed before my 
judges and before you — the penalty awarded to my 
crimes is justly death, and I accept it. Father. I 
thank you for the absolution of our holy church, if 
the thanks of a wretch, guilty of the most heinous 
crimes, can be received by one so holy as yourself. 

Priest. — My son, your penitence and faith deserve 
this absolution, and will, I trust, obtain you peace in 
a better world. 

Rodrigo. — Now, usher in my father and such friends 
as wish to bid farewell to one, who aimed to honor 
them, and win their love, but who dishonored them, and 
earned reproach — [Exit Priest] — and who deserves to 
die ! — to die? Aye, to die. — What myriads of thoughts 
converge to that brief phrase — to die! — What hells 
of woe, and heavens of bliss, await .a man — when he 
has ceased to be! What stabs, and burns, and racks r 
and peace, and joy, and love, greet him — when he has 
crumbled back to earth ! Great world of the Unknown, 
Eternity, what varied homes thou givest to him — 
when he needs them not ! Vain speculations of far- 



30 

seeing idiots ! — All hail, Philosophy, that counts a 
"being from its birth to death, and while it hears, and 
sees, and feels, gives it this earth of pain and pleas- 
ure, here to torture or delight it ! Why don a shroud 
to enter Heaven? Why leap the grave to enter Hell ? 
Here is the Paradise for him that doeth well ! Here is 
the yawning gulf for him that doeth ill ! 

Re-enter Priest , with Borraciio, Altanero, Mariana, 
Isabel, Teresa, and attendants. 

Teresa.. — [Approaching Bodrigo from behind as he is 
lost in his philosophy'] Kodrigo — 

Bodrigo. — Avenging Fury scourge — aye, scourge me 
to the grave ! 

Teresa. — Your wife — the mother of your child— 
who wept with secret joy, when first you stood within 
her cottage door, enclosed in that rude frame the 
bright fulfillment of her girlish heart's ideal ; who, 
walking, arm in arm with you, through leafy groves, 
did drink with eager ears your sweet discourse on 
Nature's forms of beauty, and, wondering, ask her- 
self, why she should thus be blest above her sex ; 
whose heart hung trembling like the aspen leaf o'er 
head, that day, when first you took her by the hand; 
whose being, blushing, felt itself transfused to yours, 
when first you spoke the welcome words of love, and 
sealed them with a kiss; who, when a mother's hopes 
first faintly dawned upon her life, thought shame too 
poor a price for joy like that, to bear the child of him 
she worshipped as divine ; who, when you coldly 
threw away the love so gladly given, still followed 
you with deeper, more unselfish love ; who gave to 
stranger hands a mother's proudest charge, in order 
to obtain a hiding-place, wherefrom to gaze on him 
she had so loved and lost; who, when the hour had 
come to make you husband to another, wildly uttered 
words, the rack could not have wrung from her, had 
not her reason fled, expelled by overwhelming grief; 
who would now gladly die for you, if that could pur- 
chase life for him she ever loved and cherished through 
her shame, disgrace and endless woe. 

Bodrigo. — Teresa, Teresa, forgive me ! — That I 



3 1 

should be so blind! To stare at stars at night, and 
see not in bright day a sphere of love, revolving in 
my path, worth more than worlds of empty, senseless 
matter!— [To the Priest] Most holy father, pronounce 
us man and wife. 

Priest. — I pronounce you man and wife according 
to the rites of our most Holy Church. My blessing 
be with you. 

Bodrigo.— [To Borracho] Father, receive this lady 
as my wife — the mother of the heir to all your wealth 
and titles. [Kisses her] Farewell. 

Borracho. — My daughter, come to me. My son, 
this act redeems you. Now meet your death, as well 
becomes Eodrigo, on the heels of a good deed, and I 
will mourn a son — a noble son. 

Isabel. — [To Bodrigo] The most unhappy one, for 
whom two lives, so dear to all, are given, forgives and 
ijsks forgiveness. 

Bodrigo. — My lady, Isabel, forget the proud, im- 
perious man of later years, and when the grave en- 
closes him, recall him, as your gentlest friend of child- 
hood — and the sad, repentant husband of Teresa. I 
thank you for your kind forgiveness. Farewell. 

Lady Mariana. May the Christian's faith support 
you in the valley and shadow of death. Rodrigo, is 
my earnest prayer. 

All. — Amen ! 

Bell taps. Emotion of all increased 

Priest. — The time has come when you must part 
forever. Your last farewell is spoken. 

Bodrigo, after embracing Teresa and Borracho, 
turns toith Priest in one direction, while exeunt in 
another direction, Borracho and Isabel supporting Te- 
resa, Altane.ro, Lady Mariarm, and attendants. 

Bodrigo. — This act of justice to Teresa draws the 
tearing teeth of fierce Remorse. — true, exalted one, 
how sweet were life to be again with you ! — Rut. death's 
poverty reveals the wealth of life. 

Exeunt 



32 

SCENE II. — Another room of prison, fitted for an ex- 
ecution, ivith sword, block, etc. 

Enter a jailer, with Leonardo, masked as an execu- 
tioner. 

Jailer. — Here is the block — can yon not see it ? — 
Mark you, if you fail, your head shall dance with his 
upon this floor ! Up, cringing knave ! Stand here ! 
Strike sure at the first tap of the hell for twelve o'clock! 
Mark, no trembling — no words ! Here, take the 
sword — no hacking, or sawing or mangling — at one 
stroke, at the first tap of the bell — fail, the rack, and 
death by starvation are yours. [Aside] This killing 
suits me not. Would to Clod that Barnabas were here 
— he'd cut a neck, and kick a falling head, and call it 
gallus work. His deputy has not learned to like his 
trade so well. 

Enter Kodrigo and Priest. 

Rodrigo. — [Kneeling, with head bowed over the 
block] Executioner, make sure your blow — the guilt 
of your victim is your warrant. At the first tap 
of the bell, strike — for there are ages crowding into 
seconds now ! I forgive you your act, your duty. 
[To Priest] Father, your blessing — farewell. 

Priest. — The Peace of G-od be with you. 

Jailer. — Beady ! [Bell taps] Strike ! 

As Leonardo stands with uplifted sivord, at the first 
tap of the bell, Teresa rushes frantically in — though re- 
strained by Borracho, ivho, however, when he sees the 
sword over his son's neck, lets go his hold of her, and 
hides his face in his hands in agony — and throws herself 
between Leonardo and Rodrigo. 

Teresa. — [To Leonardo] Spare, oh spare, my hus- 
band ! or let my head with his lie pillowed on the 
block in death's long sleep ! 

Leonardo. — [With uplifted sioord, unheeding Teresa's 
appeal, like a statue stands, till the twelfth tap of the 
bell has sounded, when he throius the sivord on the floor] 
The hour of twelve has passed, and Leonardo of Leon 
is free ! 



k 



33 

Teresa. — Leonardo of Leon ! Can it be he ? [Tears 
off Leonardo's mask] It is— it is— oh joyful sight ! 

Borracho. — Leonardo lives— my son is saved — our 
house is free from stain ! 

Jailer. — What, villain ! Defeat the court's decree? 
Defy my strict command ? Die, treacherous villian. 

All seek to interpose themselves behveen jailer and 
Leonardo. 

Enter Barnabas, from behind. 

Barnabas.— [Holding the jailer's hand] Ha ! a gal- 
lus cove ! to kill my prize ! A thousand gold doub- 
loons—that's what his head is worth — ha ! a gallus 
head ! I have been to the King— here's his letter to 
Don Rodrigo. Ha ! a gallus letter I 

Exit Priest. 

Rodrigo. — What, to me ? Let me have it ? 

Receives and reads the letter to himself. 

Leonardo. — Was it Rodrigo' s neck beneath my 
sword ! — the lurking spy that would have murdered 
me!— the false friend that has married Isabel ! 

Teresa. — No, who has married me, Teresa. While 
Isabel's true heart still clings to Leonardo's cherished 
name. 

Leonardo.— Oh, welcome news!— Mine ears, unused 
to all save grating sounds of rusty locks, now catch 
the music of a woman's voice and tremble at the notes 
which bring bright hopes of love and life to one, who 
long despaired of both ! 

Rodrigo.— [Reading] Leonardo of Leon— I learn 
from bearer — confined "in dungeon — supposed to be a 
pi ra te — release him instantly— confine in the same cell 
the jailer, Barnabas, who deceived him. [To jailer] 
Servant of the King, you hear his majesty's command. 
Leonardo is released, and Barnabas condemned to fill 
the vacant cell. Do your duty. 

Barnabas.— Ha ! a gallus letter!— Ha! a gallus fool 
was the jailer-king to step before a real king ! 



34 

Now, a jailer king, no more I'll sing, 
For the doubloons of gold 
Did make me too bold, — 
Grood-bye, to the jailer king ! 

Jailer lays his hands on Barnabas. 

Re-enter Priest ivith Altanero, Lady Mariana, Isabel, 
and attendants. 

Priest. — A miracle ! a miracle ! come ! come ! 

Lenardo. — [Embracing Isabel] Isabel, do I once 
more embrace my love! Howl have longed these two 
dark years for this bless' d hour ! How I have sought 
to send you tidings of escape from death; how I have 
suffered agonies of hell — at distant sight of you have 
strained my prison bars, till strength and reason fled; 
but now, how changed! — peace and harmony at last! 

Isabel. — And I, beloved one, believed you dead, and 
prayed that I might perish too, to be with you beyond 
the* grave ; but here united, we will never part. — My 
father and my mother, greet now Leonardo, to whom 
vour daughter's troth is plighted. 

Lady Mariana. — I welcome you, my daughter's 
choice. 

Teresa.- — Dear friends, our trials teach this truth, 
that after night will come the day, and that of all its 
hours, the brightest one is twelve. [To Priest] Your 
blessing, father on our happiness. 

Priest. — And God said, let there be light : and 
there was light. His grace be with you. 

end of the drama. 



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